I’ve been struggling to enjoy my reading of late, so it was something of a relief to revisit The Sittaford Mystery (1931) by Agatha Christie and find it so enjoyable.  We’re probably in the lower half of Christie’s second-tier work here, but for a relatively early book it shows a lot of promise, goes about its simple story well, and doesn’t try to get too clever in doing what it does.  Yes, she would go on to write much, much better works in the decade that followed, but taken on its own terms this is a good little mystery which gives a sense of how far the young Agatha had come in her career, and hints at the maven she would soon be recognised as.